Snape and the Kitsune
by cursedcassandra
Summary: WIP - Severus Snape saves a fox, then must deal with the consequences.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything vaguely Harry Potter related.**

**A/N: I am determined to finish this story. It's a good story, it deserves not to join my ranks of eternal WIPs. I'm trying to approach it like a NaNoWriMo novel - forget about editing, JUST WRITE SOMETHING!  
Therefore, it has yet to see a beta; I will do that once it is finished. Please forgive any grammar mistakes/typos, and if you do happen to notice some oversight of factual consistency, feel free to alert me.  
**

**Spoilers: All of the books, presumably.**

* * *

**Snape and the Kitsune**

The hot summer sun beat down on the wizard's black robes as he stalked through his small backyard garden, occasionally bending down and examining a wilting leaf or flower. His Muggle neighbors, had they cared to look, would have been utterly unable to identify the species of dry, drooping plants that grew haphazardly across the little plot.

Severus Snape, black hair clinging to his head with grease and sweat, knew precisely which plants inhabited his garden, how to harvest them, and which potion ingredients were going to be devitalized thanks to this unusually hot and dry July. He curled his lip in disgust and threw down a feebly snapping fanged geranium. Useless.

He straightened and glared. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and began casting Aguamenti, raining clear crystal water on the brittle leaves. He walked in measured paces along the twisting lines of foliage, letting the cool water drip down the stalks to the roots.

As he approached the fence, Snape heard a metallic scraping sound and saw a flash of brown fur. He'd caught something in one of his wire traps, probably a rabbit, or perhaps a large squirrel. His black eyes narrowed, and he shook the last drop of water from his wand. A squirrel would yield next to nothing in the way of potion ingredients, but rabbits had many inherently magical properties when the corpse was properly prepared.

Snape was set back when he brushed aside the tall grass that partially covered the wire trap. It was not a rabbit, or even a squirrel.

A dark brown fox was hunched in his trap, one of the wire bars grasped in its fangs. It tugged fiercely, trying to free itself. The fox's lips were stained with blood from scraping against the metal cage.

A nasty smile slipped across Snape's lips. He eyed the fur on the fox, which, although patchy and coarse, was a cool chocolate brown, quite unlike the rusty red color that was usual to the creatures. He sucked in a slight breath through his teeth, mentally calculate the combined worth of melanistic fox parts. It would be more than enough to offset the losses he'd suffered from the drought.

Snape leveled his wand at the struggling animal, ready to loose a stunning spell.

Before he could mutter the incantation, the fox suddenly released the wire and whipped its head around, staring up at him.

Snape's heart twisted painfully in his chest. He gripped his wand in a suddenly sweaty palm and licked his dry lips. The fox's gaze bore into him, her luminous green eyes meeting his coal black ones unwaveringly.

A heartbeat passed, then another, and then Snape snarled viciously at the fox and slashed his wand through the air.

There was a shriek of metal, and as Snape turned angrily away and marched back to his house, the brown fox darted swiftly away through the hole Snape had blasted in the wire cage.

* * *

"Coward."

Snape's eyes slid lazily up to meet Igor Karkoroff's.

"Is 'living to fight another day' not a concept valued at Durmstrang?" Snape asked, not really caring about the answer. He hunched further over, trying to focus on the notes he was making in his worn potions workbook. He frowned and twitched his quill in irritation.

Igor slammed a fist on Severus's desk, making the ink pot jump. Snape spared him a dark glare and carefully closed his book.

"Is this a joke to you?" Igor demanded.

"Avery has always been a bit of a joke to me," Snape replied drolly. "Avoiding Azkaban is actually quite an achievement for him, I should think."

"Avery is a coward, and a weakling," Igor stated angrily. "He should have been proud to go to Azkaban in the Dark Lord's name!" He loomed over Snape, emanating fanatic zeal. Snape sat back in his chair and gave Karkoroff a bored look.

"Yes, because that would be so useful."

Igor sneered. "Licking the ministry's boots like a dog, claiming the Imperius Curse... a real wizard would have fought to the death in the name of our Dark Lord!" He punctuated his statement with another bang on Snape's desk. He leaned into Snape's space, grinning.

"We should find him, teach him a lesson in loyalty."

Snape was impassive. "If you want a partner to help you waste your time, go find Dolohov. I'm sure he'd be most... enthusiastic."

Igor straightened and gave Snape an appraising look. Snape rolled his eyes.

"I have neither the interest nor the time to hunt down Avery." He deliberately opened his workbook again and dipped his quill in the ink pot. "If you hadn't noticed, we are at war. There are potions to be made, and the Dark Lord trusts me exclusively to brew them." He continued talking as he made tiny, cramped notes, referring occasionally to a battered copy of Magical Drafts and Potions. "I will not risk his anger to make such a pointless gesture."

Igor frowned, but Snape could see that his words had struck home. None of them wanted to risk upsetting the Dark Lord, not now. Even Dolohov, as ruthless as he was, dared not toe any line laid down by Lord Voldemort.

His friend was eager, but not stupid. Igor sighed and idly picked up a book at random, flipping idly through the pages without reading them.

"Very well. I suppose Avery will get his punishment after the Dark Lord rises victorious." He smirked. "So many will."

The pleased tone of Igor's voice caught Snape's attention in a way that his previous ranting had failed to do. He narrowed his eyes at the smug Bulgarian.

"What are you talking about?"

Igor smirked at him. "Congratulations are in order. James Potter and his little Mudblood witch have whelped a son today, and so have those detestable Longbottoms."

Snape's gut roiled in violent disapproval at the thought, and when Igor's smirk grew into a triumphant smile, he knew that the disgust had shown on his face. Snape tried vainly to arrange his features into a mask of nonchalance, and shrugged.

"What's your point, Igor?"

"Crouch and Bellatrix were practically gleeful when I heard them talking about it."

Snape frowned. "Why would they care? I can't imagine that Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch would have any time to be scouring the Prophet for birth announcements."

Igor laughed. "Exactly, Severus. The Dark Lord's most bloodthirsty hounds only have one reason to be so excited about something such a small thing as a child. Such a small, weak, _vulnerable_-"

Snape's sarcastic voice cut him off. "Yes Igor, I understand the insinuation. Don't strain yourself. But what would the Dark Lord gain from ordering their deaths? Why would he -"

The truth hit Snape in a moment of sickening realization. He flew up from his chair, knocking his potions book to the floor and startling a protest from Igor. Frantically, he grabbed for his calendar, not wanting to know, not wanting to see the neatly crossed off days leading to today, the last day of July, the last _possible_day for HIM to be born.

"He's going to kill them," Snape breathed.

Igor chuckled. "I'll admit I was hoping to provoke some reaction, but you surprise me, Severus. I didn't expect such shock from you." He smiled nastily. "We are at war, after all."

Snape sank back into his chair, trying to gain control of his reactions, while Igor prattled on in good humor.

"I've been dying to give that Longbottom bitch a taste of my Cruciatus, ever since she Petrified me outside of Hogsmeade. It was humiliating, being rescued by Rodolphus. He's never let me forget it."

"Is... Did they say anything specific? Is there a plan yet?"

Igor sniffed. "Not that I heard. Not that they would tell me if there was, the pinch-mouthed, favour niffling brown nosers. Maybe you should ask them. You seem to be in the Dark Lord's good graces these days."

Snape ignored the petulant hint of envy in Igor's words, thinking furiously. There was a chance, a good chance even, that the Longbottoms would be targeted in leiu of the Potter's son. The Dark Lord was well aware of Snape's feelings regarding Lily Potter, and he was indeed in the Dark Lord's favor these days. He had always strived to prove his usefulness to the Dark Lord, and every potions he'd brewed, every wicked curse he'd devised, paled in comparison to finding out about the prophecy.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... _

Snape relaxed slightly, remembering the Dark Lord's pleasure when Snape had revealed this knowledge to him. And while the Potters were troublesome, the Longbottoms were a constant thorn in the side of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord would know which child had the potential to become his downfall, and it would not be the half-blood. It would be the child of the strong, imminently Gryffindor warriors, the Longbottom child. Lily would be safe.

After thus convincing himself that everything would be fine, Snape stood and walked Igor to the door, laughing drolly as the Bulgarian enumerated the myriad ways he would revenge himself against Alice Longbottom. She deserved it, Snape thought. They all did.

As he turned to shut the door and return to his potions work, a flicker of unease shivered down his spine, and he turned back to gaze out across the street. In the darkening afternoon light, he saw something staring back at him from the house across the street, partially hidden behind the dark green leaves of a chokeberry bush. A flicker of brown fur, and it was gone. Rattled but not sure why, Snape closed the door.


End file.
